


vi; Quilted Tie-dye

by Theo_Thaur



Series: 31 Days of TUA Whump [6]
Category: The Umbrella Academy (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Pre-Canon, Angst, Ben Hargreeves' Tentacles | Bentacles, Ben Hargreeves-centric, Dubious Consent, I Can't Believe I Wrote This, I was putting off posting this fic, I'm Sorry, I'm genuinely embarrassed by this, One Shot, Other, Please don't judge me for this, Rape/Non-con Elements, Smut, Whump, Whumptober 2020, also fair warning there's a lot of bullshit and setup before it, do not expect me to generate too much smut, if I had any other thoughts I would've written something else, not a slowburn but I was meandering, we're pretending Ben has tentacles and not those weird fleshy things ok
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-06
Updated: 2020-10-06
Packaged: 2021-03-07 21:21:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,103
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26884324
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Theo_Thaur/pseuds/Theo_Thaur
Summary: Whumptober 2020 submission. No 6. "PLEASE…":“Get it Out”, No More, "Stop, please”.------Ben decides to take matters into his own hands and seek out control over his physical form, in 1960s San Francisco. The Horror has some other ideas when it comes to control.
Relationships: Ben Hargreeves/The Horror, The Horror/Ben Hargreeves
Series: 31 Days of TUA Whump [6]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1951234
Kudos: 14
Collections: Whumptober 2020





	vi; Quilted Tie-dye

**Author's Note:**

> TRIGGERS: explicit sexual content, mentions of drug use, non-consent/rape, grief, some gore within a flashback although that isn't the focus, mentions of the Vietnam War, Ben getting fucked by "his" tentacles (which deserves a TW of it's own). There is some lightly implied Klave and Ben/Jill but I didn't want to tag it for fear some poor soul would find this by accident.

_vi; Quilted Tie-dye_

Ben had tried to be a little more reasonable ever since Klaus began putting an effort in to get sober. It was a difficult line to toe, wanting to give Klaus the room to make mistakes, but also not wanting to see him give up when he'd been doing so well. Ben knew Klaus, had familiarized himself with the man's various quirks over the years, but he'd never known a sober adult --at least not one that wasn't trying to scrape up the money for drugs or find a plug. The snippy remarks had quieted somewhat. Klaus was perceptive when he wanted to be, Ben was sure Klaus had noticed the shift and yet… ignored it altogether. It was a difficult balance to try and strike --and Klaus _really_ had made it difficult at times, because he had trouble listening.

With as much of a self-absorbed asshole Klaus could be at times though, there _was_ a genuinely caring person, deep, deep down. He'd seen it the way Klaus had been slow with Dave in Vietnam, never forcing Dave to label himself or be physical with anything. There'd been drugs exchanged among the soldiers pretty commonly, Klaus had taken them at the start, but had begun to ease off ever since Dave remarked softly that the unit depended on Klaus just as much as Klaus depended on the unit. Doing heroin wasn't going to keep them alive during a Vietcong attack. 

Though Klaus had been dropped in Dallas, it had never been said but Ben suspected Klaus' immediate desire to travel was because of the association he held between Dallas and Dave's stories of what he'd do 'once he got back home'. It was an impulsive and stupid choice, but avoiding Dallas might've felt like a way to avoid Dave's memory, and Ben wouldn't take away that attempt to cope. 

He had a selfish reason of his own, too. They'd been galavanting around, although half the time it seemed more like Klaus was trying to run away from the cult instead of taking them onto the next stop of their enlightenment. He hadn't so much minded the travel, it gave him time to read and every now and then he'd look up from his readings and see Jill smile at something in her book. Ben had wondered what that was, but had never wanted to intrude by looking, even though she wouldn't have seen him do it. But, being settled in San Francisco was better than stuck with the cult. It was a miracle that Klaus _wasn't_ doing drugs, all things considered San Francisco was the place for it. There'd been temptations, but Ben had played a part in talking him down --they both knew if Klaus got back to doing drugs he'd have a hard time stopping. 

Klaus had been incidentally picking up followers in the city, which was probably the last thing he needed to be doing, especially considering the sugar mommas he'd enchanted from the get-go. Klaus and Ben had found enough of an understanding to begin scheduling possession, something that actually lined up about as often as not. Sometimes Klaus 'forgot' that Thursdays were Ben's agreed upon day to drive Klaus' body around --despite Ben constantly reminding him including _during_ Thursday--, but other times Klaus was just being a dick and didn't want to fork over the physical form. To be sure, there were actually things Ben wanted to do, it wasn't like he waited around all week for nothing. He made specific arrangements for Thursdays to meet with the couple of friends he'd picked up in San Francisco and it sucked having to break them off because he was dead. It felt good, genuinely better than most things had felt for a long time, to be able to interact with someone other than the person he was stuck with. Occasionally over a lunch with his tight-knit group, someone would say something and Ben would hear a little voice in his head because he _knew_ what Klaus would have responded with --or maybe it literally was Klaus? Perhaps that wasn't the best example. The thing was, Ben didn't want to depend on Klaus' body being there for him, because Klaus' body was just about as dependable as his brain. He'd waited long enough, watched in real time as Klaus would spontaneously decide on a trip to Mt. Tam on Wednesday and not get back to Haight-Ashbury until late Thursday. Or a half-hour before _Ben's_ plans, Klaus would decide he wanted to see a park concert, join a peace march, or visit a nightclub. It was exhausting and he couldn't take his needs always playing second fiddle to what Klaus decided to spend his time on.

\------*´｡*ﾟ

That was what Ben was bringing himself to try. He'd been able to have some control over his form before, having advanced past what had happened in the Icarus Theatre. It didn't take an extreme moment of need to summon a visual projection that those other than Klaus could see. It was Friday, after Klaus' newest attempt to completely sabotage Ben's prospective friendships --and yet Klaus had the nerve to get on his case about being a 'dead, lonely virgin'. Klaus was hosting some sort of buffet or potluck downstairs with Destiny's Children, but that was pretty usual. They'd left the apartment in Haight to travel to outer San Francisco, realistically the suburbs offered more space but Ben was certain Klaus just didn't want his followers finding out about his secret apartment in the city. There was a certain amount of space Ben could go --having once been measured as _about_ as long as the two furthest apart places within the academy--, without it feeling like he was disconnected from Klaus' tether. He was fine to be on his own, and in the future contemplated trying to push that boundary. But for now, this was just fine. He stood in the bedroom, in front of an oval-shaped mirror that naturally faced the large bed. Typical for Klaus' tastes. Ben could see himself, and when he looked back at his face, it was almost normal. As weird as it sounded, he had calmed him down on a few occasions just by watching himself, and reminding himself that he existed _somewhere_. 

The bedroom, Klaus', smelled like frankincense and orange --it alternated between that and something more feminine like lavender, for God knows what reason. It was a warm space in color, a bit heavy on the paisley but the door locked --Klaus had ensured that mostly because he didn't want to be ruthlessly bothered by his cult. Anything was better than having _beads_ in place of a door. Strangely, but not for Klaus, the door was most often unlocked while he was _already_ having sex with someone (or some people) in his room. He shivered, thinking about everything that quilted, rainbow tie-dye bedspread had seen in a fairly short amount of time. 

Ben focused his mind, trying to think about how the golden-orange shag carpet would feel under his feet. It was difficult to map out those kinds of feelings, sensations he hadn't felt in years, but he felt it would be easier once he got more used to it. He acknowledged the fading in of several things. His leather jacket was heavy on his shoulders, his hood rose and brushed against the back of his neck, and the slight heel on his sturdy boots sunk into the carpet. Ben opened his eyes, standing before him a wavering blue image. It had been shocking in the theater, although much worse was coming back into that form the first time after the events there. But this was a form that others could see him in, not just Klaus. This was who he needed to be, and if it took making sure his friends were too tripped up on LSD to notice he was someone entirely different, he would still be with people he cared for. He wouldn't need Klaus, and ideally could find a way to alter the imperfect image. 

But there was something else he found crawling into the back of mind, something deeper and hungrier. If Ben was being entirely honest, it had wormed into his mind and stuck there for awhile. It could've even played a part in his choosing of a room with a solid door. He knew he could interact with the real world, even while an uneven, cerulean spectre of himself existed --the Horror had had no problems wrapping around the soldiers sent by the Temps Commission. He could also _feel_ things. Physical things. It wasn't his fault his brain could wander a little, being stuck with watching Klaus live his life would do that to anyone, and he'd never once been intimate. Before he'd died, as a teenager, his hand was all he'd had. Maybe, just a brief moment of what Klaus would call 'self care' was alright. Sooner or later he knew Klaus would be having sex, it was one of the reasons he hosted the buffets in the first place, and that Ben had heard directly from his mouth. But for now he had a moment.

He sat down on the bed, it shifted beneath his weight in a way that made him grin. It was daunting to think about addressing his body in that kind of way, but Ben had contemplated it long enough. He'd stop right away if it was weird or unwanted. Slowly, he undid the fly of his pants, finding boxers beneath it. Ben had never fully worked out how or why the aging process of his body had happened, but he'd never seen his current body in boxers before. If Klaus had had any control over it he would've been more likely to find himself commando or wearing some outrageous color beneath the layers of black. He stood, kicking off his pants a bit haphazardly, faster than he'd want to confess to, before sitting back down on the edge. He leaned back a little, closing his eyes so that he could imagine his skin didn't glow with the hum of supernatural power. He began to palm himself through his boxers, taking pleasure in the heat --or at least friction-- that resulted from the touch. He hardened, at a speed that felt rather vigorous, but his frame of reference was years old. Taking a deep breath, he pulled down the waistband, finding himself stiffening. He paused, needing to think about it only briefly, and finding that he was in a little too deep to want to stop. So he spat into his hand and began to stroke himself, thoughts melting into nothing as he relished the sense of heat, the instinctual draw for more.

Then, he felt an all too familiar itch, one that clattered somewhere further inside of himself, twitching and tearing. This was nothing of the tingle that arousal brought to his cock and stomach, it was far more unsettling and known. He sat up, softening in his hand although that didn't matter at all. No. No. He didn't need it, there was no danger. 

Somehow the emotional tidal wave of sensitivity and pleasure had set off the Horror, calling it out rather than fear or necessity. 

_To some extent, all of the others had expected Ben to do the brunt of the work. They were a team, yes, but only Luther and Diego, who vied to outdo each other, focused on harming the enemies. Allison tended to outsmart them, similar to Five, and Klaus just dicked around mostly. But when they were up against swarms of people, Ben was always assigned the expectation of piling the most corpses. He had supposed that was fair._

_Tentacles whirred around him, while Ben stood still and let them grasp. It took enough of his control to keep his mouth shut tight as they stretched, feeling no less bonded to him than his own intestines. The tentacles raked through corpses, popping off heads with about as much ease as opening a worn jar. In other moments, the Horror was more sadistic, prying off arms or letting victims dangle until the blood rushed to their head. Sometimes it would smother someone, the suction cups clasping over the mouth and nose. Ben could remember how their comparatively small hands would try and dig into the Horror to push it aside, he remembered how the snap of bones felt. The Horror had a mind of its own, possessing the raw strength to be able to throw around a fully grown man like a child's doll, but also the fine motor skills to close off breathing. It was terrifying the first few missions especially. Ben had once believed he'd gotten over the most difficult part, that because he'd survived the past five years and controlled it enough that far, he'd be okay. Somehow the fear of his own indirect power, and compliance in bloodshed, just turned to minor resentment. He was embarrassed by the bloodshed at age eight because Ben could no longer process the full meanings of the murders he'd carried out, all for the sake of obeying orders. Even if it was for a good cause, he'd haven't asked to be considered a strong weapon for the academy._

It was back to torment him, clearly. Ben didn't know what it wanted but it couldn't be good. He had no power to keep it away as it ripped open from his abdomen, pushing up and past the layers of clothing. It couldn't kill him, right? Not again. Because Ben was already dead. He tried to calm himself, but the fear he felt of seeing them couldn't be called irrational. The risk had once been very, very real. And so had the consequences. But there was no one else for the appendages to go after, they were alone. Ben bit his cheek so hard he tasted iron, which was about as likely blood as some kind of an _illusion._ He didn't have all the answers for that, it was a miracle he'd been hard to begin with. More pressingly, the last thing he needed was to scream out and have a cult's worth of people trying to bang down the door. As long as it was just him, all was safe. 

After only a moment of pause, the Horror began to finally settle on something, but not anything Ben would've guessed even although he'd tried to predict. One tentacle shimmied down to rub against his flaccid cock, the suction cups not sticking, but rubbing against him in a totally foreign way. It felt, in some respects, similar to giving himself a handjob. If he muted out the sensitivity of his penis the best he could, he could still feel the 'hold' of it on the tentacle. But on texture, it was completely unfamiliar. Disgusted, Ben tried to nudge it away, especially because he didn't want to let it get him hard. When that didn't discourage it, he tried a little harder, wrapping his hands around it and trying to pry it away. He didn't expect anything he did to work, though he felt compelled to try. The Horror was easily stronger than him, not budging and instead, two tentacles went to either one of Ben's wrists, wrapping around them and forcing his hands up in the air. If only they had gone up straight from his stomach, then Ben might've gotten to at least not watch an Eldritch being try to jerk him off, because they would've blocked the view. Ben tried to struggle against it, but knew it was in vain. He was as well-acquainted with the ways of the Horror as one could expect to ever be, _it_ was in charge. He didn't want to humiliate himself by watching what had essentially killed him get him off while he was in limbo. Ben didn't want to prove that he was _still_ , over a decade later, weaker than it. But he wasn't stupid. His cheeks burnt and he just hoped it would lay off, get whatever it came for and leave him the hell alone. He couldn't just try to be nice and ask it to stop.

It seemed to want to achieve more than it had, those already gained achievements including frazzling Ben and giving him an erection. The tentacles wrapped around his wrists suddenly changed intent, pushing his arms back behind his head. There was only so far it could go before the Horror was essentially forcing his back away from an upright sitting position. It seemed to grow annoyed with his resistance, another tentacle rising to push down on his chest. Soon, Ben was laid flat on the bed, only his legs still off the edge. He couldn't move from the torso up more than turning his head. It was becoming a little more difficult, the tentacle on his cock kept him stimulated and turned on, but there wasn't enough friction to make him cum. Ben would feel as if he were close, only for it to cut out again and go slack. This occurred for at least ten minutes before he grew very desperate, having been unused to orgasm --and edging was a completely different territory past that. He was humiliated by the way he found himself trying to grind on it, bucking his hips. 

"Please no more," he muttered because it made him feel slightly more sane, not because he thought the Horror would listen. "Just let me climax, alright?" Ben's voice had grown weaker, deepening a little and getting breathier. "That's _all_ I need."

Either by sheer coincidental timing or a miracle, it appeared to comply. But not in the way Ben had thought. The back and forth rubbing paused, making him groan in agitation, and a pair of new tentacles emerged, tearing past the barrier. It stung less, the pain dulled by the pleasure that forced him to keep going. Still, that didn't make the reality much less repulsive, as it attempted to pull away his boxers with a good amount of precision. Ben was sorry to say he'd still helped mildly, arching his back to speed the process up. The tentacles wrapped around his thighs, squeezing them tightly, before raising them up into the air. He had an uncomfortable feeling that he knew what was about to happen, although the advancement had made it all the more obvious. Like it or not though, the Horror would've gotten it's way regardless, a small piece of clothing would've never kept it off. He'd wanted to orgasm just enough to assist, but it felt all the more imminent with his legs up and spread apart. Ben squirmed, rocking his body back and forth on the mattress, but that did nothing to stop his fate. Thankfully, a tentacle started to pleasure him again, playing with his cock a little and making it ache a slightly less. Unfortunately, he felt a prod against his ass. "No. That is _off limits_ ," he said quietly, admonishing the Horror like it cared what he thought, like Ben had ever been more than a host to be fed off and used as a gateway to fragile, mortal bodies. It didn't care. If only to shut up those kinds of comments, a tentacle slowly snaked up towards his head. Immediately Ben had a severe reaction to the murderous thing getting near his spinal column and trachea, shaking his head as his eyes widened. He was too afraid to speak, thinking that would only motivate it further. 

What the Horror did wasn't nearly so terrible, although Ben had felt threatened. Nearly docile, it moved to brush his cheek, before pushing past his lips. Ben clenched his teeth, but it didn't really matter. The tentacle in response forced the button of his jaw down until it could get past his teeth. It moved into his mouth, until his lips stretched erotically around the tentacle. Then, the appendage that had merely been hinting at penetration to Ben's ass took the cue, pushing past the ring of muscle. Ben screamed, a sound that was blocked out by what was basically a thick gag in his mouth. He was too afraid to think about what biting down on the Horror would do. It had no desire to move slowly, beginning to pump in and out of his newly formed, projected body. It pierced him open, thick and infinitely long, as far as Ben had ever known. A part of him was genuinely afraid it would dig deeper and deeper into his body until it tore something serious. He lurched back and forth from the force of the Horror mixed with the resistance of his own body. This was only magnified by the luxurious mattress Klaus had gotten, which cupped him, and the fact that his knees were pulled up towards the ceiling.

The Horror began to hit a particular spot, although Ben hadn't experienced it before he'd heard Klaus talk about it in _way_ too much detail --the prostate. Compartmentalizing and explaining the pleasure felt good, but what felt better was ignoring the source entirely. That wasn't too bad of an idea, the pleasure was starting to build in sheer defiance of what felt like fission in his stomach not to mention how it roughly took his ass. Ben knew he just needed a few more 'thrusts' to send him over the edge, he even momentarily stopped thinking about the situation he was in. He squeezed his eyes shut as tears ran down his face, groaning around the tentacle in his mouth as it finished him off. Ben shook and twitched as a final burst of pleasure sent him cumming onto the waiting tentacle, coating it. Ben sighed, letting it keep going to ride out the orgasm in full. His hips twitched a few more times, cock feeling highly sensitive. It bordered on uncomfortable as it forced him to keep receiving penetration, as he had to cope with the suction cups still against his cock, but eventually, the tentacles pulled away, sinking back into his stomach. He sat there for a few moments, opening his eyes and staring at the ceiling. Somehow, in a cruel twist, he still felt that pain despite not being alive. It didn't make too much sense but his head was spinning and Ben really didn't care. He tried to sit but found it hurt too badly, so instead he rolled onto his side before staggering up off the bed. Ben's only motivation was trying to not be caught there, particularly not in the form he was. Thinking about Jill accidentally coming in and seeing some strange apparition made him shudder --definitely not the kind of first impression he wanted to make on her. Ben rubbed at his wrists, standing up and putting his pants and boxers back on --they'd turned inside out. He fell back on his side, onto the bed, deciding to never invite _that_ ever again.

Ben could hardly even appreciate the orgasm, and his cheeks still felt hot --so it wasn't entirely just the flush of horniness. It was fucked up on so many levels, he couldn't even begin to unpack it. Better to leave it with most of what the Horror had forced him to go through, in a big box of memories entitled, 'Open Under no Circumstances'. Ben joked weakly to himself that as some sort of consolation, he would find out next week if alcohol worked on any of his forms. He didn't really mean it; the last sixteen years of his life had been one long anti-substance abuse PSA. Feeling a little sleepy, he'd drifted off. 

\------*´｡*ﾟ

Ben woke to the noise of a door handle rattling, bolting up to cover himself before remembering he was fully dressed.

"Who's in there without the Prophet? Keechie, if you're going through my clothes, I'm not mad, just disappointed, 'kay man?" Klaus called through the heavy door. A couple people on the other side with Klaus laughed. Ben sighed, getting up, and glancing at himself in the mirror. Perfectly done hair --so he already knew he had reverted back to his former state--, and his body no longer shimmered blue like Klaus' fists had in the Icarus Theatre. He undid the lock, standing with a perfectly neutral --if slightly judgmental-- expression. Klaus regarded him only briefly, seeming a little curious, before one of Destiny's Children walked right through Ben. He sighed, before leaving the room to give Klaus and the others (mostly the others because Ben didn't think Klaus would care) some privacy.


End file.
